


HIS VOICE

by thoughtsdemise



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Cause I can't help myself, Fingering, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Sub!Megatron, Tribbing, Voice Kink, romance fluff, small bit of size kink, sticky robot sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 12:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12557180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: Megatron gets off on listening to the hitch and changing tones of Ratchet's voice as overload breaks him apart.





	HIS VOICE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uglyNicc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglyNicc/gifts).



 

Megatron leans back against the wall, his legs spread wide and his digits already stroking the outer rim of his valve.  Digits swiping up a droplet of lubricant, he brings it up to his lips to lick off as Ratchet stares at him from the door to their bedroom.  He gives the doctor an insolent smile when he hears the telling hard rev of his engine. Oh he was definitely interested in what he was seeing, despite the lines of weariness Megatron could read on his frame.  

Megatron purrs his own engine invitingly and opens his legs wider.  He hands going back down the length of his frame to stroke his thick thighs, playing over the seams and plates there.  He bites his lip to keep from moaning as his processor helpfully, but perhaps rather unhelpfully, supplies the last time Ratchet had been between them.  He shifts his aft on the berth and puffs of vent of steam from his lips.

He watches a warm smile bloom over Ratchet's face as he finally enters their bedroom.  “And just what has the Lost Light’s captain been up to all evening?”  He notes the way Ratchet's optics linger on the small pool of lubricant beneath him.  “Been having fun without me?” 

There is almost a scolding timber to his tone despite the smile on his face.  Megatron does vent a small whine at that.  He places the bottom of his peds on the bed to lift his aft off it enough so he can lower himself.  He dips his chin to his chest and lowers his optics as if he was feeling guilt.  But the curl to his lips was still insolent enough to draw a warm chuckle from Ratchet.  A chuckle that slithers through the space between the two of them and strums over Megatron's plating. 

In response, Megatron shutters his optics and lolls his head against the wall.  He rolls his bottom lip between his denta and shifts his knees upward to move his hips against those invisible vibrations he was desperately wishing were digits or a glossa.

“You look so beautiful,” Ratchet says quietly near the foot of the bed.

Megatron shivers and kneads the plating beneath his digits.  He keeps his optics shuttered as he feels the padding dip with the addition of Ratchet moving onto the bed.  He unconsciously widens his legs.  He slits his optical shutters open enough to give Ratchet a hooded and pleading look.  He stills himself completely as he watches his lover crawl forward.  

Carefully ever so carefully as if Megatron might vanish between one ventilation and the next.  How many times now, Megatron wonders to himself.  How many times have he or Ratchet approached the other so careful, so reverently as if they did not approach in a slow worshiping stance the other would disappear.  

Megatron lifts a hand to reach for his lover, not surprised as it trembles as he wonders if he is caught in some sort of cruel trap laid by an enemy to tempt him into madness.  Ratchet's smaller hand slides into his to still the tremble.  Megatron clings to that small hand and pulls slightly on it.  He shivers at the soft laugh from his lover as Ratchet moves forward with that pull.

He arches his wide, thick chest upward when he feels Ratchet splay his free hand on it to steady himself before he lowers his warmed frame to lay comfortably on his larger lover.  Ratchet's digits slide over Megatron's chin to lay against a cheek. 

The kiss is lingering.  The warmth from their exvents roll and mix together when they separate long enough to shift their frames closer to the other.

Megatron wraps an arm about Ratchet to help support his movements and to keep him close.  He shivers at each soft expression of amusement that he clings so tightly to Ratchet.

“You can loosen your grip a bit, love,” Ratchet teases with a pecking kiss-lick along Megatron's lover lip.

“Don't wanna,” is Megatron's petulant but breathy response.

“Mmmmm.”  Ratchet hums, varying his tonals.  “I think you do.”  Ratchet shifts a knee to press it firmly against Megatron's exposed valve.  “Otherwise you wouldn't be so wet, and,” Ratchet presses forward enough to feel the rim of his valve try to squeeze and suck in the metal pressed to it, “aching to be rubbed.”

As Ratchet gives a firm but soft push on his chest, Megatron reluctantly lets the medic go.  His pout makes Ratchet laugh.  But the pout doesn't linger long as Ratchet swings his legs over Megatron's hips.  Megatron looks between their frames and smiles to see Ratchet's panel open and his valve glistening with lubricant.

“I thought we'd try that one thing we were talking about a while ago.” Ratchet shifts his hands behind him so he can push himself as close to Megatron as he can.  He shudders as the outer rims of their valves touch.  The slide sending wonderful electric jolts through the both of them.  “Yeah.  Just like that,” he chokes out.

Megatron reaches forward to support Ratchet frame.  He is graced with a beautiful smile as the medic wiggles in his larger grip to press their valves flush with each other.  He brings his red hands up to rest on Megatron's forearms.  The digits tickling over seams there as a devious but wondrous smile plays over his pleasure soaked features.

The process is slow.  Ratchet moves his hips in circles as Megatron carefully moves his back and forth so as not to unseat him.  The rims of each valve spread and mesh together as they move in this slow dance-slide.  

Megatron vents heavily when he hears Ratchet's own vents hitch and his moans pitch higher when their anterior nodes strike each other harder.  His optics train on Ratchet's face as he clings to him.  His turns up the gain of his audios to listen to the shifting tones and harmonies.  He knew Ratchet was close to breaking.

He gives Ratchet's waist a hard squeeze and watches him fall and scream into overload.  He is quick to follow as his is triggered by a specific pitch to the cascading scream from Ratchet.  He yanks Ratchet to his chest as he clings to him within that storm.


End file.
